When I was about eleven, I became a pen pal of a girl my age from Austria, through an acquaintance of my father. We wrote for many years, until both of us married and she moved to Germany with her husband.

I was going through old letters recently and came across one written by her, in beautiful script in English. Like so many American children, I was not conversant in any language except my own, but she wrote in English.

One year we exchanged Christmas gifts, and her family sent us a thank you note. The parents expressed hope that one day we might see each other for “it is possible in these times.” (We have never met, but my mother, on a trip to Europe, did meet and visit with her.)

One sentence of their letter, now before me, stands out: “It would be much better for the people to understand each other instead of having wars.” How little did I fathom at the time the longing in those words.

The parents had lived through World War II and the Soviet occupation of a part of their country. How poignant their wishes now, when so many since then have died and been harmed by conflicts.

Dear Lord, please bring us more understanding, more love, for those different from ourselves.